The Simple Life
by Seeroftodayandtomorrow
Summary: What if your soulmate is the one person you can't allow yourself to love?
1. Chapter 1

This story, like many stories, begins with two things: a city, and a woman. The city is, of course, New York. To find the woman -and oh, what a woman that is! - you have to go all the way to Manhattan, to the Great White Way, to the place where dreams come true. In a small Broadway theater that advertises 'Funny Girl' in bold, proud letters, you can find, if you arrive at the right time, in a dressing room upstairs, the star of the show: diva extraordinaire, Rachel Berry.

Rachel is the woman you came to find. Although this story isn't about her, you need her to find those we are really looking for.

Rachel is probably sitting at her dresser. Depending on when you arrive, she may be wearing a bob-cut wig; her real hair is much longer, though it is of the same, rich brown color. She is not exactly pretty, but certainly attractive, she is petite, but has a lot of personality to make up for it.

You should talk to her, if you want – though maybe you should have remembered to buy some flowers. Compliment her on her performance. It doesn't even matter if you have seen the show; she is always good, and knows it, accepting compliments graciously but naturally as her birthright.

Be nice to her. She doesn't only demand it, she deserves it, and she is one of the loneliest persons you will ever know. The soulmark on the inside of her left arm, this little mark made up of the letters F, C and H, is black, and although she had a little heart tattooed around it, it will never be the same. She had been one of the lucky ones who had met her soulmate early in life. She had had her mark for only a few months when the quarterback of her high school football team had touched her arm and both of them felt a sharp, burning pain when their marks, hers, and his with the letters RBB, had turned red, indicating that they had connected with their soulmates. Rachel's promise of forever had started then, and for her taste, the future couldn't come fast enough. She had been engaged by eighteen, married by nineteen, and a widow by twenty.

She is twenty-three now, and she has decided, despite everything, to try to be happy.

It is now time for you to leave. Follow me; you can wait outside to get her autograph, if you want, although you don't have to wait in the crowd to do that. You're with me, I can get you anywhere.

When she leaves, you should follow her. You are lucky today, she is not going straight home, but meets someone for a very late dinner. It would be too early for you to go to her home, even if she can't see you if you don't want her to. Anyway, you wouldn't be able to meet the person you want to meet if she was going home.

Follow her through the well-lit New York streets as she walks to the restaurant. Be quiet now, you don't want her to hear you. It's time to watch and listen now, but don't worry, I won't let her see you.

The person Rachel is meeting here is one of the reason she still, in spite of everything that happened, feels lucky. She is very successful in her career, and playing the role of her dreams at such a young age still sometimes seems unreal to her, although she knows she is more than talented enough to deserve it. But the person who has always been there for her, who helped her through the elation and heartbreak of love and through the ups and downs of a cutthroat industry, is sitting at a table waiting for her.

It is a young man of almost ethereal beauty, with elaborate clothes and immaculately styled hair. He is sipping from a glass of white wine, but smiles warmly when he sees her.

Look at them. Don't be shy, they can't see you. You can come a little closer. Can you see them? Can you see how much they enjoy each other's company? There is familiarity between them, and a lot of love, but no spark, no romantic attraction. You can see they are not a couple. Rachel wouldn't be ready for that anyway, not so soon after losing her soul mate, even though she would have no difficulties finding a lover who was, perhaps, in a similar situation as her, or simply tired of waiting to connect.

As for the young man, her friend – he has a different reason for only being her friend – for only ever being a friend to any woman at all. You have probably guessed it. The young man – his name is Kurt – is gay. Somewhere, or more accurately, at a party in a building only a few blocks away, there is another man with Kurt's initials in his soulmark.

Just, please, don't tell anyone. I know I can trust you with Kurt's secret – although it isn't really a secret. Some people know. Two, in fact, apart from me and now, you. A lot of other people suspect. Kurt is not exactly out of the closet, but he's not really in it, either.

Kurt is in the public eye a lot. Not for his own sake – he is a junior designer in a small fashion label who has the potential of one day becoming a big name, but is not there yet. But Kurt's father, Burt Hummel, is a candidate for the post of Ohio State senator, and all of his movements, his words and his connections, are closely observed, scrutinized, and gossiped about. And Kurt – Kurt loves his father more than anybody else in the world. Even more than that, he believes he is a good man who could really make a change in the world. He wants him to succeed, he wants nothing more than to see his father become senator.

And so, Kurt is careful. He doesn't tell people he's gay. He doesn't go to bars, he doesn't get drunk, he doesn't hook up. Over the years, as his father slowly rose through the political ranks, he has become used to being his own severest critic. Before he does something, he asks himself, how will this be seen? Will the way I act affect my, and thus my father's, reputation? And no, before you ask, Kurt's father doesn't want him to do this. He has asked Kurt, many times, to not waste his youth watching his every move. He has insisted, in fact, that Kurt at least choose a career path that could make him happy, even if it might be seen as 'gay' by some. He is an active fighter for gay rights, and he has made Kurt swear that he would never outright deny being gay.

So Kurt just hopes he won't be asked directly. There are rumors, but he ignores them. He is not ashamed of himself, but he knows, all too well, the way some people in Ohio still see anything out of the ordinary, and he doesn't want to influence them against his father. To avoid questions, he rarely leaves his house. He goes to work, and he meets with Rachel once or twice a week, and that's it. And yes, he, too, is desperately lonely.

They have now gotten over saying hello and ordering their food, and we should be quiet and listen to them talking.

"I need a favor," Rachel says, and you should know that although she really needs him to do this for her, she also thinks he should do it for himself. Rachel is a demanding friend, but she also honestly loves Kurt. He is the most important person in her life right now, and she wants him to be happy.

Kurt, a little wary, asks what she needs him to do. He is used to her, but despite everything he gives up for his father, he is no one who lets you walk all over him. He will probably give in to Rachel after a little persuasion, but only if what she wants is reasonable and within limitations he set himself.

"There's this party next weekend," Rachel says cautiously; she knows he will protest. "It could be really important, all the right people will be there. I could make a lot of useful connections – so could you, for that matter! - but I can't go there alone. Please, Kurt?"

"Rachel," Kurt says with the expression of a mother who has told her toddler the same thing about three hundred times. "You know I don't do parties."

But Rachel knows him. She wouldn't just ask him to any party. "It's really small and exclusive, it's invitation-only, there's no press allowed inside, and you wouldn't even have to drink."

Kurt stares at her, clearly thinking of any reason to decline. "...You're paying for the cab," he says, knowing it's a weak retort.

"I'm paying for the cab," Rachel confirms, quickly hiding her triumphant smile.

Let us leave them alone. They will go home soon, anyway. Kurt has work tomorrow, and on the nights he meets Rachel, he goes with much less sleep than he would like to.

It's late. Are you very tired? I could let you go home, if you want to, but if you're up to it, you should meet one other person, and he is best met at night. It is, in fact, early for him to go home, but we're in luck – there he is. He is dressed in black and red, there is glitter in his hair, and his eyeliner is a little smudged. He is walking a little too careful, but only a very attentive eye can see that he is drunk, and not only a little. But he is used to it, and so he doesn't stagger, and he doesn't slur when he's talking. You shouldn't talk to him, though. Oh, he will be charming if you do, and if you didn't have me to tell you, you probably wouldn't know something's wrong. But there is so, so much wrong with him, and he is just beginning to realize that himself. That's the reason he left the party early today, and that's the reason we should leave him alone. He deserves a little peace and quiet, a little silence to hear his own thoughts, and he very rarely has the opportunity.

You see? It's already over. Two girls have spotted him, and they giggle excitedly and come over to talk to him and get his autograph and take a picture, and he's smiling at them and complimenting them and asking their names. And they don't see – but you do, don't you? - that his smile is too bright and doesn't reach his eyes, and that it is, in fact, only the alcohol in his blood that keeps him upright and doing his duty.

The girls leave, and you can see the mask fall away from his face as he slowly makes his way home, where he will sleep his hangover away until afternoon and then, tomorrow night, go to another benefit or fundraiser and sing, talk and smile, and drink, drink, drink.

His name is Blaine Anderson, he is a singer well on his way to becoming a star, and he is – you have guessed it - Kurt Hummel's soulmate.


	2. Chapter 2

Are you sure you want to wear this? We _are_ going to a party, you know, even if we're not invited and nobody is going to see us. I could wait while you change – no? Oh well. I guess it doesn't matter much.

Kurt and Rachel, anyway, are dressed to the nines, both of them, of course, in Kurt Hummel originals that will be the subject of much praise in the course of the evening. But Kurt, at least at the moment, is not in the mood to appreciate the way this party could benefit his career, because Rachel has, wisely at the last moment when he can't back out anymore, decided to tell him about one other expected guest.

"You could have told me that Blaine Anderson was going to be there," Kurt says, burying his face in his hands. He's being a little dramatic now; he really doesn't know how he feels about Blaine Anderson being there, as little as he knows how he feels about Blaine Anderson in general. He doesn't know him, not really. What he knows is that Blaine Anderson is openly and at times flamboyantly homosexual; he goes to events wearing tight black pants and a red, feathery jacket that, in Kurt's opinion, looks like a few Muppet have had to die for (as CC would say), but he pulls it off. He knows that, after one of Blaine's rare out-of-town performances, an Ohioan Republican had written,"Is this what the world is going to look like when gay-friendly politicians like Burt Hummel are granted their wishes?" He knows that Blaine Anderson is just – too much.

He knows that he desperately, desperately envies him.

Blaine Anderson is a lot of what he aspires to be – openly, _proudly, _gay. Political about it. Although he could 'pass' as straight better than Kurt ever has, he doesn't try to, never has. Blaine Anderson is honest, charming, friendly, a great performer. He is also a threat to everything Kurt believes in, everything he has given up so much for.

Kurt claims to find him trashy. Oh, he grudgingly admits that his music isn't bad and that he's talented, but he likes to call him too loud, too shrill, too much.

All of that is true, but it is also a lot easier than to try to find words for the envy, the admiration, the _fear _that he also has for Blaine Anderson.

And isn't it strange that he has so many feelings about a man he has never met and whose life he only casually follows because it always seemed probable that he would meet him some day?

But Kurt doesn't want to think about Blaine Anderson anymore. He has been dragged here; now he is determined to enjoy it. He might even have a drink or two, though of course not enough to get drunk. This isn't the right place to get drunk anyway, even if he wanted to, not at such an upscale party with overpriced cocktails and champagne as options.

We're here now. This is it. Oh look, there's actually a red carpet, and a lot of press people around it. They're not allowed inside, so they're making the most of the arrival of the celebrities, would-bes and plus-ones on the guest list. We can watch for a while, but we should go inside before there's too much of a crowd.

Rachel's and Kurt's arrival doesn't cause a big buzz. Rachel is very much on her way to being famous, but she isn't yet, as only Broadway aficionados know her name or her face. Kurt is completely unknown, except as the son of Burt Hummel, the politician. One reporter, however, asks Rachel about the man by her side, and if you look closely, you can see the fear in his eyes. For a moment he looks like a deer in headlights, but when Rachel just answers,

"This is my friend Kurt Hummel, who has designed the gorgeous dress I'm wearing,"

(because that's what she does, you know. She is demanding, but also very generous, and she doesn't mind sharing her fame) he relaxes, and his smile is only a little forced. As they make their way to the entrance, he keeps smiling, and although most observers can immediately see that this isn't his comfort zone, he doesn't look too bad. But look how he is clutching Rachel's hand, like she's his lifeline. He is forcing himself not to run away. Soon, he fears, soon someone will make the connection between Kurt Hummel, friend of Rachel Berry and fashion designer, and Kurt Hummel, son of the Ohio senate candidate. And then the questions will start. _Why are you here with Rachel Berry? Is she your girlfriend? _And he knows his heart will clench fearfully, and he will want to say yes, but he can't, he has promised his dad.

But they're close to the entrance now; Kurt's near-panic subsides when bigger names arrive behind them and the reporters' attention turns to those.

Kurt and Rachel go inside, but we should stay a bit. It's worth the wait to see Blaine Anderson arrive. A lot of teenagers think the same. Girls and boys, gay and straight alike, stand behind the bars, excitedly practicing their screaming every now and then even though he isn't here yet.

The more conceited or more delusional among the arriving celebrities wave at the small crowd, and some are asked for autographs or photos, but it's more to pass the time. The man they are really here to see is Blaine Anderson.

And look, there he is! He climbs out of a town car, and his feet have scarcely hit the ground when he starts smiling radiantly and waving at the screaming fans that are waiting for him. He walks up to them, kisses cheeks, signs things, has photos taken. The other guests file past him; he will be outside a while.

There are moments when you can see that he genuinely loves the people who have come here for him, and you can imagine that there was a time, not all too long ago, when he loved what he was doing, when he considered himself to be immensely lucky that he could earn his living with something he was passionate about, and touch so many lives doing it. He couldn't even start to tell you when that changed. He still loves making music, and he still loves his fans. But at some point, it seemed to be not so much about the music anymore as about keeping up appearances, he started compromising, was told he had to, did what he was told. Still does. The music he writes is not the music he wants to write anymore, it's the music that will sell. The people he has to touch, to impress, are not his fans – it's the producers, the sponsors, the big names of the business. Sometimes – often – Blaine wishes himself back to the times when he used to play in bars and busk on streets. He didn't have any money then, but he was more honest, everything was more honest. But he doesn't know how to go back there, and he feels guilty when he wishes for it. He has made it, hasn't he? He has achieved what others only dream of.

So he drifts in his unhappiness, and does nothing.

But for now, he revels in these few minutes he has to really do what he likes. All too soon, security signals him, and he takes a few more pictures just to annoy them, then he waves apologetically at his fans and goes inside.

We should go, too. We can go inside, just like that; no, they won't see us. Blaine will sing, probably, although it isn't officially scheduled, but he often does in the course of an evening. Someone will ask him to do it, and he takes it as a three-minute respite from the schmoozing and hand-shaking and ass-kissing he does the rest of the time. He will be drunk by then, because that's the only way he can go through an evening like this without going crazy, but no one will notice. No one but you and me, and – Kurt.

Kurt has spent the evening at Rachel's side, standing in a circle with people she talks to, smiling a little awkwardly. Sometimes someone asks him about the clothes he makes, and then he answers, and his smile becomes genuine and lively. But he isn't made for all that small talk going on here that, ultimately, serves one purpose: asking, covertly, what someone can do for you, in what way they can help you, promote you, hoist you up another rung on the career ladder. This isn't for him, and although he hopes he'll make it big enough one day to be invited to parties like this in his own right, he isn't sure it ever will be.

He's not miserable, though. He is, in a very upscale, glamorous way, bored.

He amuses himself by watching Blaine Anderson, who confirms every prejudice he might have about him by wearing a suit with sequins and glittery nail polish. Kurt marvels quietly. How can this man, no matter how outrageous his clothes, always look so good?

He can't deny, however, that no matter how big his smile or how seemingly engaged in conversation he is, Blaine doesn't look happy. Kurt scoffs inwardly. It is well known that Blaine loves parties. He is at some event or other every second evening; if Kurt, to whom all of this is new, is bored out of his mind by now, it must be hell for Blaine. Maybe stay at home for a night? As he watches, he notices the amount of alcohol Blaine downs in a very casual, inconspicuous way, and he is torn between detesting him just a little more and wanting to take the glass out of his hand, take him home and tuck him into bed.

But then Blaine is requested to sing, and as he jumps up the little stage and grabs the microphone, he...transforms. There is no other word for it. Suddenly, the underlying sadness and general contempt in his eyes disappear, overshadowed by energy and joy.

Listen now. It's worth it, really. He sings one of his older songs, an energetic, upbeat song, and there is so much passion in it that he seems to forget about everything else. He certainly forgets about his audience, which is used to listening to piano jazz and Beethoven and is mostly unimpressed and a little irritated by this strange, loud, passionate music that interrupts their important conversations. Not all of them, though. Can you tear yourself away for a moment and look at Kurt? He is standing close to the stage, and he is...mesmerized, staring, his mouth slightly open, with a smile that grows bigger by the second.

Blaine is aware of the general lack of enthusiasm in his audience and knows he has chosen the wrong song for this occasion. He usually doesn't do this; his ability to read an audience is one of his greatest assets as a performer. But today, he felt like being rebellious. The whole night, he has noticed a pair of cool blue eyes watching him with a mix of scorn and pity. He doesn't blame the owner of the eyes for this unflattering view of him; he sees himself the same way. But he has wanted, the whole evening, to prove himself, to show who he really is. And he knows that these days, he is mostly himself when he sings, and he wanted to sing a song that represents that.

It hasn't been in vain, he sees when he stops singing and, panting, scans the reactions of his audience. Most applaud politely and elegantly and then resume their conversations, but the one he wanted to impress, he stands there with the sort of smile that lights up a room, the kind he hasn't shown all evening. Blaine wants to talk to him and jumps down the stage, but, as he is, after all, pretty drunk, he lands the wrong way.

You know what happens now, don't you? Kurt grabs Blaine's arm to keep him from falling, and a white-hot, burning pain shoots through his arm, racing towards his soul mark.


	3. Chapter 3

**This has turned out much darker than I initially planned. So, warnings for: self-loathing, alcohol abuse, suicidal thoughts.**

I know what you want to happen. You want them to stare into each other's eyes for some time, and then kiss, and be in each other's lives and love and help each other and live happily ever after.

This is not what happens.

It has a dreamlike quality. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, and every second of this encounter will be forever saved in their memories.

As his hand touches Blaine's arm, Kurt feels the pain, then a fierce, all-encompassing joy. He hears Blaine's sharp intake of breath, and when he looks at him, he sees the same joy he feels in Blaine's eyes.

And then the panic sets in, and the despair. He presses his hands against his mouth, whispers, "No," and runs. He turns away from his soulmate, jostles his way through the crowd, and outside frantically waves at the passing cabs until after a time that seems like an eternity finally one stops.

Quick, get in with him. He won't see you; no one will see you when you're with me unless you want them to.

Let's go home with him, just for a moment. Look at him, how he unlocks his door and puts his keys away. He is outwardly calm, but when you look at his face, you can see him crumble. He wanders around the small apartment a bit, straightens a few things, takes off his jacket and carefully hangs it in the wardrobe. Then, finally he breaks; he starts crying in loud, desperate sobs, just standing there in the middle of the room until at last he falls down upon the couch, burying his face in the cushions.

We should leave him. He would not want us to see him like this; I should not have brought you here.

I'll tell you what happens, though. At some point, he calms enough to sit up a little and wipe his face, and he says something under his breath, several times. "It's just one more thing," he says. "It's just one more thing."

What does he mean? It all started when, in his high school glee club, he deliberately threw an audition for a competition solo because his father, then just a mechanic, had received a phone call in which is son was called a fag. Kurt somehow never stopped, since then, to give up things for his father, even though he knows that his father doesn't want this. It has grown worse since Burt Hummel went into politics, and it's a habit by now: he has given up dating, a career in the performing arts, being honest about himself. He is trying to tell himself that _this _is just one more of all the things he has given up, and readily, because he thinks it helps his father. He doesn't believe himself, though. Because giving up his soulmate, if that's really what he's doing? Is _not _just one more thing.

But how can they be together, when his soulmate is, of all people in the world, Blaine Anderson? The flamboyant, extravagant singer who more than once has served as a Republicans example for the depravity of the world? It could be the last straw, it could hurt his dad in so many ways.

So how can they be together?

But how can they not?

Already he feels the yearning, the gentle pull to be wherever Blaine is. He knows it will only get stronger in time, until it is an almost painful, unignorable strain. And some day, if he doesn't give in, it will just – stop. He won't feel anything when he hears Blaine's name, he won't think of him anymore, his soulmark will slowly fade away until it will only be a light gray circle, barely visible.

And won't that be the saddest day of all?

He cries himself to sleep.

But what is with Blaine, you ask? Well, he feels the same things you already know about. The pain as his soulmark turns red. The joy, the kind he has never felt before. He also feels hope, in the split second that his soulmate actually looks at him, hope that maybe, with the help of this man, everything might be alright, or at least bearable. Then, when the man turns and runs away, there's, after the initial shock and surprise, a quiet resignation. Of course his soulmate doesn't want to be with him. Who would? He himself doesn't want to be with him. He loathes himself so much by now that rejection is not only no surprise for him, but the only logical reaction of others.

Still, he wants to call out after him, just to talk, maybe apologize for...everything. Anything. Being him; he doesn't really know. But then he remembers he doesn't even know the other man's name, and as he stands there, one hand reaching towards the door, a bleak, dark kind of despair settles silently in him. Trance-like, he leaves the room and goes home with the sole purpose of drinking himself to death.

We only go with him for a very short moment. He is still safe for the moment, although he is determined. He opens the bottle of expensive scotch he saved for special occasions, and he lifts the bottle, raising a toast to no redemption. There will be no redemption for him, no second chance, no chance at all. If he is so broken that his own soulmate rejects him, there's nothing left for him.

We leave him as he sits, bottle in hand, in the darkness of his messy, lonely apartment.

This isn't how you imagined this would happen, is it? The two soulmates, apart, one drifting in an uneasy sleep, with traces of tears on his cheeks, the other, fueled by a desolate, determined desperation, on his way to being too drunk to care.

But help is on its way, in the early morning, in the form of a tiny, but very angry woman who is jumping out of a cab outside Kurt's apartment.

Rachel lets herself in with her own key. They used to be roommates, and since then they have used each other so often as plant-waterer, mailbox-emptier, advice-giver and shoulder to cry on it's become second nature to them, and she walks straight into his bedroom without even hesitating or wondering what she could walk in on.

Kurt has woken to the sound of his door opening, and he wearily rubs his red-rimmed eyes as she starts shouting at him without warning.

"What did you think just running away like that? Leaving me there, wondering what you were up to, and having to explain your absence? Did you - "

She interrupts herself when she sees that he has obviously been crying, and sits down on the bed and takes his hands in hers.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and he, too weary and too used to her tenacity to even think of pretending, silently shakes his head, extracts his hands from hers and rolls up his shirt sleeve. She gasps when she sees the red-turned soulmark. Leaning back against the headboard, she silently hugs him and soothes him through another fit of tears before she asks,

"Who is it?"

"Blaine Anderson."

She takes some time processing this. It is ironic, and just a little funny, though she knows better than to laugh. She can also imagine the origin of her friend's misery. They have talked about it, so often, Kurt's hesitation to do things for himself out of fear of hurting his dad's career. She's on Burt's side here, she wants Kurt to be happy, and she is weary of watching him let opportunity after opportunity pass him by. She also suspects him of having another reason for living this quiet, almost hermitical life expect not wanting to give anyone an opportunity to gossip. So she won't ask him why he is so unhappy or why he isn't with his soulmate right now; she can imagine the answers, even though she doesn't like them. She asks another question, though, one she has often wanted to ask.

"You must have known that your soulmate was going to be another man, Kurt. Have you never thought of what you would do when you met him?"

Of course he has known – but the truth is that he has never really let himself think about it. He has also not exactly entertained the notion that his soulmate would be a celebrity, not to mention one so...noticeable as Blaine Anderson. All ideas he might have had about perhaps at first keeping the relationship a secret, getting to slowly know each other while he decided what to do are made invalid by the fact that there is nothing secretive about Blaine. He tells that to Rachel, and he also tells her all the other things he's been telling himself – that it's not just_ a _man, but that the real problem is that it's _that_ man. That he's not ready, that Blaine is just too much, that this could make an end to everything he has sacrificed so much for over the years. And Rachel listens to him, and though her heart breaks for Kurt, she is also slowly getting angry. Because Kurt could have everything she can no longer have, and he pushes it away. Because he's just making excuses.

"I don't believe one word you're saying," she tells him. "You can't seriously believe that people knowing you are gay, or even who your soulmate is, would have any effect at all on whether Burt is going to be senator or not. Sure, there'd be gossip. And those who anyway hate your dad would feel themselves confirmed in their opinion. But the people that are planning to vote for your dad – they'll vote for him anyway."

She continues, ignoring Kurt's words of protest.

"I think you're just afraid to see what would happen if you'd crawl out of your shell. If, for once in your life, you'd actually take a risk. This is no way of living, Kurt. You have to see that it can't go on like this."

She can be hard. She can also be unfair when she's angry, but Kurt can see that she's right. It's not that he isn't aware of what he's doing to himself when he's talking himself out of anything that could be rocking the comfortable, if very small and confining boat he's sitting in. He's just never admitted it before, not even to himself. But yes, he is scared. And there is one question he would like to ask Rachel, but he can't quite find the courage. _Was it worth it?_

At long last, Rachel can persuade Kurt to take a nap. It doesn't take too much; he hasn't slept well tonight, and he's tired. He also needs to sleep over her words, and what they mean to him.

And while he sleeps, she does something he might never forgive her. She knows that, but she sees no other way.

She calls Burt Hummel.

And Blaine? At some point, after several hours of determined,if unhurried drinking, he has passed out, the bottle still in his hand, the small rest of Scotch in it slowly dripping to the floor while he snores. And when he wakes up, through the haze of the worst hangover of his life (for that was a lot to drink, even for him), he has one thought: He may not be worth much. He may not deserve to be anyone's soulmate. But he does deserve an answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Of course, Kurt's excuses are exactly that: excuses. Oh, he does feel that way, make no mistake – he really feels that him being openly gay, or, worse, being together with Blaine Anderson, would hurt his father's political career. But he also knows that in time, it would wash over, and that those who vote for liberal, gay-friendly Burt Hummel will probably also vote for him if he has a gay son. Maybe even if that son's soulmate is Blaine Anderson.

Of course, there's more to all of that.

Kurt has taken a few days off. He doesn't go to work, and that means he rarely leaves the house at all. You can't meet him now, I won't take you back to his apartment. Let us leave him in peace, for a bit. At least we should do that; few enough people will. Rachel comes to visit every day, sometimes more than once, depending how much time she finds between performances, photo shoots and interviews. She has talked to Burt, and apparently they have come up with a tactic that seems to involve having her pestering Kurt as long as it takes to bring him out of his shell, to get him to take action, any kind of action. So far, she hasn't succeeded. Kurt spends a lot of time in his bed, alternately lying down or sitting with his arms hugging his knees, and he thinks. His own mind is pestering him at least as much as Rachel; his heart, his very soul seem to have conspired with her, against him. As he is sitting there, he imagines a string on his heart, thin but solid and unyielding, drawing him towards Blaine. And he knows he has a choice to make. He can stand up, get dressed and go looking for Blaine, and they can work it out, perhaps be together, give their bond a chance.

Or he can stay here, right where he is, and let his soulmark slowly fade away, suffer through the pain and the longing and the_ wrongness _until at last Blaine will be no more to him than just another person.

Both outcomes scare him, and the worst thing is that by giving in to that fear that seems to petrify him, he is already making a choice.

He doesn't know what to do.

Blaine is in pretty much the same situation. The thoughts in his mind are of a slightly different nature, but they spin in circles all the same. He, too, has taken time off from work – although in his case, it wasn't that easy. His agent and his publicist have thrown a fit, claiming he has to stay in the spotlight or hurt his career, but for once, he is adamant. He doesn't really care about hurting his career, not anymore. Besides, he really needs the time, and the dedication, and the distraction-free environment he can only have by staying at home.

The task he sometimes sets himself is not an easy one. He wants to – he has to, really, he sometimes feels – find a man he knows nothing about, not even the name, and whom he has seen exactly once. Oh, that one time, he has watched him pretty intently. He knows what he looks like, he can describe him, could possibly have him drawn. But he can't very well put up signs to find him, especially as, he suspects, his soulmate doesn't want to be found.

He could do it, though, he has ways. The problem is, he doesn't know if he _should _find him. He knows he can, with a little time and effort, but a part of him – a big part – believes the man, soulmate or not, is better off without him. And clearly, his soulmate believed the same, or he wouldn't have run. Several times, Blaine talks himself in and out of looking for him, and for a time, he ends up doing nothing.

For a time, that's what both of them do.

But the gentle tug at Blaine's heart is too insistent to ignore for long, and though he doesn't believe he'll have a happy ending with his soulmate, he reminds himself that there is one thing he deserves, on thing he _will_ have – an answer.

And Kurt? Well, I'm sure you can guess what happens, knowing about the nature of Kurt's relationship with his father and the meddling of his best friend. And you are right, of course.

Burt Hummel calls.

Kurt...doesn't really tell him anything. He knows he could, and that feeling sustains him through a lot of things. But he has early on fallen into the habit of protecting his father from things he knows would hurt him. He didn't tell him when the bullying in high school became really bad, didn't tell him how afraid he was when Burt had a heart attack. He doesn't tell him of the sacrifices he makes now, of his loneliness, the fear. Burt suspects some things, but he doesn't know a lot about it, just enough to be concerned for his son and to tell him, over and over again, not to waste his life worrying.

So Kurt doesn't tell him he met his soulmate, nor that he ran away from him. But Rachel was thorough, and so, with very little preparation, Burt congratulates Kurt on his connection in a way that clearly indicates he knows that Kurt doesn't feel like being congratulated. And Kurt, so on edge the last few days, bursts into tears. He still offers only the excuses as a reason why he probably won't see Blaine again, although there is a tiny spot in his mind where he can sense the fear that is a bigger part of the truth. But he voices this fear, that he never, ever admitted even to himself, only when his father makes an unexpected threat.

"You know, kid, if I can't persuade you in any other way, then I'll just withdraw my candidacy. Me being senator isn't worth your happiness."

He's sincere; there's no doubt about it, he would certainly do that – but, between us, he doesn't believe he will have to. He knows that Kurt really wants to see him as senator, not only as his father, but as a good man, a good politician. He also knows that there has to be more to the whole thing than Kurt lets on.

And really, after a while, Kurt asks his father the question he had wanted to ask Rachel.

"Was it worth it?"

You see, Kurt has seen, and felt, too much grief. His mother died when he was eight, and though it was a long time ago, there are still times when something comes up and he suddenly, desperately misses her. But what was almost worse for the little, lost boy he was after they had buried her, and what he thinks about now, was how hard it hit his father. How he would hear him cry at night. How Burt would sometimes turn and smile, and then remember and be utterly dejected. How he stopped talking for days on end. Kurt knows that caring for his son was the only thing that kept Burt upright for a long time after losing his wife, his soulmate.

He also knows that Carole, his father's second wife, visits her late soulmate's grave twice a year, and afterwards locks herself in the bedroom for a week or so and cries, even though she and Burt are perfectly happy with each other.

He remembers holding Rachel, night after night. Rachel's soulmate had been Carole's son, his own stepbrother, and though Kurt was devastated by his death, it was nothing compared to what Rachel felt when she lost him. He knows she felt like her own life had gone, too; like he had taken all that was beautiful in the world with him.

That's what he means when he asks, "Was it worth it?"

Being with your soulmate, he knows, is supposed to be the one thing to give you unconditional joy, and even he has often found comfort in the thought that somewhere there is one person who, despite everything, is destined to be his, destined to love him. But is this joy, this feeling of home, of belonging, worth the complete heartbreak that follows when you lose them?

How do you feel about a little journey? Because Burt, as an answer, suggests,

"Come home for a few days."

And for once, Kurt doesn't think about work, or about going where any reporters interested in his father could ask him questions.

"Yes," he says, relieved. He knows that going home won't really fix anything, but to be with his dad, to be a child again for just a few days, sounds about as good as things can get right now.

We should go with him. At the house of Kurt's dad and his wife, things will happen we don't want to miss.

For Blaine has finally managed to talk himself out of his indecisiveness, and he has started to take action.

He looks at the guest list for the party where he met Kurt (poor guy, he still doesn't even know his soulmate's name, but we do, so let's call him that, okay?), and he googles a few guys on the list he doesn't recognize the names of, but none of them is him. Next, he checks the tabloids, and there he is more successful. At a gossip blog, he sees a photo of Rachel Berry, and his heart misses a beat when he recognizes her companion. The caption even offers his name, and, "Kurt Hummel," he says aloud. "Kurt."

The tug at his heart gets a little stronger; he can feel, physically, that this name has a meaning to him, and he gets even more determined to find him.

The next step is to find out his address. It isn't quite as easy as he thought, because Kurt isn't in the phone book, nor is his address to be found anywhere online. But Blaine has connections. He calls in a few favors, and it doesn't take too long.

The really hard part comes now. He knows that if he wants a chance not to get the door closed in his face the moment Kurt sees him, he needs to sober up. He is just so used to going through his day half-drunk all the time that the idea is a little hard to grasp, and he needs a moment to remember that most people actually drink water or sodas when they're thirsty, not beer or wine. But he tells himself he can manage for a few days.

He doesn't even go so far as to think Kurt might actually give him a chance to be with him, he only plans on going to him and demand an answer on why Kurt ran. He knows why Kurt _should _have run, but Kurt doesn't know him; he doesn't know how pathetic, how broken and jaded Blaine is. There must be another reason, and Blaine wants to know what that is. As soon as he has his answer and is inevitably rejected again afterwards, he thinks, Blaine will go home and start drinking again and never stop until he has poisoned himself so much that everything - the pain, the pull towards Kurt, his whole life – fades into oblivion.

Until then, he can bear it.

But when he finally feels prepared enough, put together enough, to actually go out there and face the final rejection by his soulmate – when he finally stands before Kurt's door, no one opens.


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine stands, defeated. It has cost him much to come here, and he knows he won't have the courage to come back. What's more, he knows that once he gets home, he will start drinking, and he won't stop again. He keeps standing there for a minute, leaning his forehead against the door, just to hold off the end for a moment longer, when he hears an excited voice calling his name.

He thinks it's a fan. You can see, though, that it's Rachel. She's come to get Kurt's mail for him, and she has immediately recognized Blaine. She relishes this chance to do something for them, to give Kurt a little push in what she believes is the right direction.

But Blaine doesn't know that. He just sees a female hurrying towards him, and thinks about doing something he has never done before. He wants to run away from a fan. He can't imagine putting on his mask now, concealing everything he knows must show on his face, and smile at her and talk and sign things. He turns to just walk past her, to just ignore her saying his name, but she repeats,

"Blaine Anderson," and when he doesn't react except to walk away a little faster, she calls, "I know you're here for Kurt."

He stops dead, and then turns to face her, and as he looks closely, he remembers having seen her before.

We can leave them, we should be on our way. You know what they talk about, you know that Rachel is rooting for them. She tells Blaine that Kurt has gone to Ohio, to his father, and she tells him where to go. She knows Burt won't mind; he is rooting for them, too.

And Blaine hopes. This is easy; he can have his people book a flight and go straight to the airport, wait for however long it takes. He doesn't have to go home, doesn't have to gather the courage all over again. He gets in motion.

Let's go to Kurt now. It's easier for us than for Blaine – we don't have to take a plane, and we don't have to fear to be turned away either. We can watch him for a little before Blaine arrives.

Kurt's been in Ohio, at home, for four days now, and he's slowly starting to think about going back. He still doesn't know what he'll do then, but he knows it'll do him no good to linger here. It doesn't solve anything, and the tugging at his heart has become worse. It doesn't quite hurt, not yet, but whenever he is unoccupied, he can feel it. It's worst when he's trying to sleep. He has trouble enough trying to get his mind to rest; he's still thinking about what happened, what he'll do, what everything means – but now his body can't find rest, either. It feels like a constant itch, somehow, his limbs are restless as if they want to jump out of bed and go find Blaine, wherever he is. His whole body seems to be asking him the questions he can't really answer: Why am I here? Why am I alone? Why am I not with him?

Being here somehow...doesn't really help him. He knows that; he's known it before. Still, he had hoped...he doesn't know what. For some kind of revelation.

His father hasn't given him the answer he had hoped for. He has, in fact, said only one thing about his current predicament.

"What about Blaine?" he had asked the first evening Kurt had been there. "Don't you think it's been unfair of you to just run away? Can you imagine what he's going through right now?"

Kurt had shaken his head. "He'll be fine. He's like...a rock star. He doesn't need me."

Burt had just looked at him with eyes that managed to convey both disappointment and understanding. "You never know how it looks like inside a person, kid. You should know that better than anyone. And even if everyone in the world loved him, it wouldn't be able to replace the love his soulmate can give him."

Kurt has refused to think about this. He's got enough on his hands with himself; he'll go mad if he thinks about Blaine, too.

And still – when he lies awake at night because his whole body _aches_ with longing, he can't help but think of him. Of what he has done. If he has already hurt him, if the decision he so fears is already been made because Blaine won't want him, because he could never forgive him.

If he's destroyed everything.

When he rises on the fifth morning, intending to tell his father he needs to go back home, he finds himself alone in the house. There's no note, no message, only a photo album lying on the coffee table.

He immediately suspects that this is supposed to be the answer he had expected from his father, the answer to the question "Was it worth it?" that he asked before he came to Ohio. He makes himself a cup of coffee and sits down before the book. How can his answer be in a few photos?

He opens the first page, looks at the pictures. They are photos of his parents' wedding, not posed ones, but snapshots in varying quality. All of them have something in common, though: his parents radiate joy. There is one particular photo that captures his attention. They are standing before the church, hand in hand. They are not even looking at each other, but are facing in different directions, presumably both talking to guests that are not in the picture. Still, their hands are clasped, and their bodies lean toward each other, and you can see how happy they are, how a part of them is always with the other no matter what they are doing.

He flips through the book, seeing his parents at their wedding, shortly after his birth, at outings and vacations, at perfectly normal situations at home, with him or without him. One of the last pictures he remembers being taken. His mother is sick already, she is lying on the couch, a book in her hands. Eight-year-old Kurt is kneeling on the floor by her feet, drawing and reluctantly looking up to his father who takes the picture. His mother's face is drawn; he remembers her being in almost constant pain by then. But she slightly turns her head towards her husband and smiles, and her eyes shine with love. Even then, in pain, and sickness, and fearing death, she has nothing but love for him.

He knows that not everything was always wonderful with his parents. He can remember them fighting. He remembers hiding in his room and trying to block out the raised voices. But he also remembers them laughing together, dancing while doing the dishes, his mother's hand casually dragging across his father's back whenever she walked past him. He knows his parents have been happy together. He has always known.

But that isn't really an answer to his question.

The doorbell rings.

As Kurt rises slowly, wondering who it might be, I can tell you that it is Blaine standing before the door, his heart beating fast, asking himself how he will be received. Will Kurt shut the door in his face? Will he be let in only to have to make small talk with Kurt's father?

Burt, though, has been warned by Rachel; he and Carole will be gone the whole day. Burt knows that this whole mess is something Kurt will have to sort out for himself. He has left him the photo album as a sort of visual proof of what Kurt already knows. He can't do more, or at least, he doesn't know how. But he knows that the kind of joy he had with Kurt's mom is worth every heartbreak. What's more, he suspects that nothing is worth the pain you get from denying your soulmate. But Kurt wouldn't believe him if he was just told. This is something Kurt has to figure out for himself.

Although he hasn't consciously noticed it, Kurt has been feeling better these last few hours. This is, of course, because of the fact that Blaine is on his way to meet him – proximity helps, though it won't last if he doesn't recognize Blaine as his soulmate, and soon. As he rises from the couch and makes his way through the corridor to answer the door, though, he notices it – he feels lighter, almost good. So he isn't too surprised when he opens the door and sees his soulmate, although he hasn't expected him to be here and not like this: dressed normally, simply, in jeans and a travel-wrinkled shirt, all alone, looking tired and a little scared.

The time of running is over.

"Blaine Anderson," he says, almost resigned, and opens the door wider to indicate for him to come in.

This is about all that Blaine has dared to hope for.


	6. Chapter 6

It is good to have them in one place, isn't it?

They don't necessarily share that opinion. Though Blaine has gone to all sorts of lengths to meet Kurt, he isn't sure what to say now. He sits awkwardly at the kitchen table, on the edge of his chair, looking around but clearly faking his interest in his surroundings. His attention, his only focus is on Kurt, who clatters around the kitchen, offering beverages and food and looking into cupboards and drawers, anything to avoid looking at his guest.

Finally, Blaine interrupts him. He's tired, so tired, and still scared. He's also determined, and better than he has been for a few days. But his voice sounds weary and sad as he says,

"Kurt, please. I'd like a glass of water if I may, and then I'd like to talk to you."

There's nothing Kurt can do to postpone this, and it's not his way to dwell on things that can't be changed. So he nods once, squares his shoulders, fills a glass with water and ice and sets it before Blaine. Then he sits opposite him at the table and waits.

But Blaine is silent. You know why he came here: to ask Kurt why he ran away. He hasn't planned for anything further than that, and yet, now that he's here, he can't find the words. Suddenly, he laughs a little and shakes his head.

"You're kind of hard to get hold of," he says. It's not a question and not a reproach, it's an invitation to talk.

And Kurt, with the same feeling of resignation and choicelessness he had in opening the door to Blaine, accepts the invitation. Hesitantly, but not reluctantly, he starts to talk.

"I'm sorry," he says. "This is where I go when I don't know where else to go. It's home. I just couldn't wait to get out of here, but now, I keep coming back."

"It's kind of what I felt when I decided to go looking for you," Blaine says. "I didn't know where else I'd go. I...I don't want you to believe that I expect anything from you. I know you don't want me, and that's okay. I wouldn't have come here, I would have left you in peace, but...I didn't know what to do, and the feeling got really bad, and...I kind of wanted to ask..."

"Blaine," Kurt says. "Blaine, stop. I know. I know you want to know why I ran away from you, from our bond. It's your right to ask, and I'm kind of glad you came here to do it. Because you're right, the feeling got really bad." He laughs a little, then shakes his head. "I just don't know if I can give you an answer."

Kurt looks at his hands on the table; he misses the flash of hope that passes over Blaine's face when he says he is glad that Blaine came to talk. Even if it is just to stave off the weirdness that had settled in both of them at their continued separation, it is a recognition of their bond, an acknowledgment of what they might be to each other. And Blaine has never even expected that much.

Kurt continues talking, unaware of his soulmate struggling to fight the hope that wants to flood him, to not get his expectations up.

"I'm glad that I didn't manage to scare you off completely. I – I wanted to say I'm sorry, Blaine. It was wrong to just run away – it's just...it was more than I could handle then. I don't understand why you don't seem to be angry at me, but still, I'm sorry."

Blaine shakes his head. He hasn't expected an apology, doesn't even think he'd deserve an apology, but he can't bear Kurt to think he's angry at him.

"I'm not angry. I never expected you to want to be with me. I don't blame you for running away, I probably would have done the same."

Kurt looks up sharply. The words sound genuine, but he can't imagine anybody – and certainly not Blaine – feeling like this about themselves. He suspects the words a ruse, a ploy to make him feel even more guilty than he already does, or to have pity for Blaine. But when he looks into Blaine's eyes, they are honest and don't ask for anything. They are unassuming, not even self-pitying. Blaine is simply stating a fact.

"Why are you talking like that?" Kurt asks. It sounds like an accusation, and he softens his voice. "You have every right to be angry with me. You have every right to expect your soulmate to want to be with you. I'm actually surprised you don't hate me. Half of me expected you to never want to see me again."

"Is that what you want?" Blaine asks with a sinking heart. He knows he shouldn't have allowed himself to hope. He has come for an explanation, but it doesn't seem like he will get one. And now, apparently, Kurt wants him to leave. He rises, ready to go. He doesn't have any more fight in him, but his body seems to see things differently. He has to grab the edge of the table when part of his vision becomes black and he threatens to pass out. Still, he offers, "I can leave, if you want me to. I won't bother you again."

"No!" Kurt nearly yells. He surprises himself by his strong reaction, especially as he discovers that he has jumped up and is half on his way to block the door. He sits down again and briefly buries his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. Please don't go. I don't want you to go." He drags his hands over his face and shakes his head to clear it. He feels mushy inside; his head barely allows him to get the words out.

Blaine sits down again. He's still wary, but relieved, though he is only vaguely aware of these feelings. Everything is overwhelming to him all of a sudden, and he can't think clearly.

"You're confusing me," he says, though Kurt isn't the only thing that's confusing at the moment.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says. "I'm not explaining this very well. I feel weird."

"Me too." Blaine nods. 'Weird' is a good word. He feels drawn to Kurt, desperate for physical contact they haven't had since Kurt touched his arm at the party. He won't suggest it, though. He still hasn't quite come to terms with the fact that he is even in the same room with him. But his head is unhelpful, and - well, weird. It doesn't allow him to think of anything else.

"Would you...come to the living room with me?" Kurt asks hesitantly. "It might be more comfortable to sit on the couch." He needs to not have a table between them. He needs closeness. He doesn't allow himself to define that feeling.

Look at them. Look closely. They rise and walk in the direction of the living room, and without realizing, they gravitate towards each other. Soon, they're walking so close to each other they're nearly touching, but neither of them takes that final step.

When they reach the living room, Kurt sits down on one end of the couch, and gestures around the room, indicating for Blaine to choose a seat. He can't admit, not even to himself, that he desperately hopes that Blaine won't take one of the armchairs, nor the other end of the couch. It's all he is able to focus on, the hope that Blaine will instead choose to sit right beside him.

Blaine decides he has proven enough self control when he didn't grab Kurt's hand on the short walk here. Now, there's nothing left. It's not really a conscious decision though when he falls down on the couch so close to Kurt he nearly lands on his lap. It's just that there's nothing else he can do.

"I'm sorry," he says, and with great effort, scoots over an inch or so until only their legs are touching.

"No, it's – it's fine," Kurt says and resists the urge to hide is burning face behind his hands.

Go look at them. They're sitting on the couch, very close together, but they're taking care that their hands don't touch, awkwardly folding them in their laps. They are in a weird situation. Fate has thrown them together, and though fate surely has their best interests at heart, the fact that none of this is their own choice is something that at least Kurt resents a little. They're punished when they are not together, they have already experienced that. They don't know if they're only happy to be with each other because it considerably lessens the feeling of wrongness they have suffered over the last few days. In any case, the general awkwardness nearly erases the part of being happy.

And now? They are together, finally, and they still feel weird. Both of them are aware that this need for physical closeness is nothing of their own doing, and they don't know what to do about it.

They are still at the stage of their acquaintance where they want to be sitting at a table and make polite conversation, get to know each other. Kurt at least, although he has seen another side of Blaine now, isn't sure he wants to know Blaine at all. And yet, when Blaine slowly, surreptitiously, slides his hand, palm up, towards the barely-there gap between their legs, Kurt immediately and without thinking about it, puts his hand in Blaine's. Both of them close their eyes and exhale, relieved, when the weird feeling lessens and their minds finally feel like their own again.

"This is better," Kurt says, and Blaine nods, eyes still closed.

Then he opens his eyes. He likes it here; in fact, it's a long time since he felt so content. But this isn't how it's supposed to be, is it? He only came here to ask a question, not to practically cuddle with Kurt on the couch. He sits a little further away and faces Kurt. He doesn't go as far as to release Kurt's hand, though. Not that.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I swear, I only came to talk, not to..." He gestures helplessly at their intertwined hands.

"No," Kurt says slowly, thoughtfully. "No, I think...I think this is how it's supposed to be. From what I read, and what I remember when my friends found their soulmates...we had that itchy feeling when we were apart..."

"'Itchy' is a slight understatement," Blaine interrupts. "It hurt."

"You're right," Kurt says. "Towards the end, it almost hurt. Anyway, when you were here but we were not...touching, it still felt wrong, in a different way. Like, I couldn't really think, and my head felt like I was going to have a cold. You?"

"Similar," Blaine agrees. "I was dizzy, and everything was confusing. It got really bad when I thought you wanted me to leave. And then I had this crazy need to touch you, and I still can't bring myself to let go of your hand."

Without realizing it, he squeezes Kurt's hand tight, and Kurt squeezes back, until it hurts and they slightly release their grip. To make up for it, though, Blaine puts his other hand on Kurt's knee.

Kurt looks down and chuckles. "Yes, I can see that."

Blaine blushes and wants to take his hand away, but Kurt lays his hand over Blaine's. "Leave it," he says. "It's better this way."

It's true. If Kurt thinks about it, he is still kind of angry about the whole thing, and in no way is he sure about what his relationship with Blaine is going to be, or if there is to be any kind of relationship. The level of physical intimacy they have now isn't one he would usually engage in with a practical stranger – he rarely touches people except for Rachel and his family – but he can't deny it feels good. Or, more accurately, it's the only thing that prevents him from feeling bad.

"It really is," Blaine says, after a moment. He sounds surprised. "So now we touch, and it is better. I feel better. But I still don't feel...entirely good."

"That's the thing," Kurt says, and he is angry and a little scared. "As far as I know, our bodies want us to confirm our soulbond. With a kiss."


End file.
